


The Greatest Gift of All

by clgfanfic



Series: Sentinel Slash - The Journal [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to "Before the Night is Over."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Greatest Gift of All

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Mating Rituals #7 under the pen name Duval.

          Blair Sandburg sat hunched over his desk in his basement office at Rainer University, writing steadily in his journal and occasionally muttering under his breath.

 

I guess I should have expected this; it's pretty common.  But I was hoping it wouldn't happen to us.  A little arrogant, I guess, but I was hoping.

I'm not even sure what "it" is, really.  But I thought we were different.  After all, being a sentinel and a guide isn't an ordinary relationship to begin with, and then you toss in the same-sex intimacy factor and you're looking at virgin relationship territory, so to speak.  So, I guess that's why I though we might be different.  We are different.

Don't get me wrong, I still love Jim, but he's driving me crazy!  No, let me rephrase that, he's not driving me crazy, he's driving me away, or at least he sure as hell seems to be trying his best to do that.

And I'm the first to admit that we've had some rough spots over the past year, but this is different.  This really scares me, and annoys the hell out of me at the same time.  Like over the last few weeks he's been back on this massive "house rules" kick, and it's totally unreasonable stuff!  As a result, we've been arguing about literally everything.

Most of it's pretty stupid, and if I take a deep breath and look at it more objectively I can see I'm playing right into it, but I can't seem to help myself any more.  The smallest things are pissing him off; stuff I've been doing for years!  And when I point that fact out to him, he just gets more upset and unreasonable.  And that just pisses me off and I start acting petty and doing things I know will annoy him.

There are times I feel like we're both five years old and having tantrums in the sandbox.  Someone watching the two of us would probably think the same thing.

And whenever I try to talk to him about what's going on with us, he doesn't want to listen to me.  He rolls his eyes, and sighs, and pretends to listen, if I'm lucky.  Most of the time he just ignores me.  It's all I can do to keep from throttling him right there on the spot.

Or, if he's not ignoring me, he'll suddenly find something else he's just got to do for the case he's working on, or for Simon, or Steven, or whoever.  And man is that annoying, too!

But the worst is when he just out and out ignores me and doesn't even bother to come up with an excuse.

I'm not sure what to do anymore.  I can't force him to listen to me and I refuse to resort to yelling.  It hasn't worked in the past, and it's not going to work now.

          And, I have to say, the sex has gotten a little pedestrian, too.  Not that it isn't still good, it is, but it's gotten routine.  We fuck, roll over and go to sleep.

It all comes down to the fact that we're not making love anymore.  At least I don't feel like we are.  I have no idea what Jim thinks, since he won't talk to me about that, or anything else.  I'm just afraid it might be a sign that we're not in love any more either.

Maybe we've spent too much time together over the past few years.  They say familiarity breeds contempt, but I never believed it.  Now, I'm not so sure.  I don't want to believe it, but this isn't how I want to spend the rest of my life, either.  Something has got to give here.

 

          Blair glanced up, checking the clock on his office wall.  He had another ten minutes before he had to go upstairs for Don Beckwith's reception.  As a new hire in the department, Dr. Beckwith would be expected to meet and greet the rest of the faculty, and the graduate students, before he moved into his office and set up shop the following day.

          Sandburg looked down at his journal and added:

 

When I get home I'm going to try to talk to Jim again, even if he doesn't listen to me.  At least I will have said my piece and put the ball in his court.

And then I can finally decide if I'm going to take Dr. Howard up on his offer.  Right now, a three month trip to the Amazon Basin sounds damned good to me.  At least it would give both of us some time and some distance to think about what's been going on, and what we want out of this relationship.

Hell, at this point I don't even know if Jim sees us in a relationship any more!  I'd rather have him over-protective and jealous like he was before, than acting like this.

I feel like I can't talk to him any more, and like he doesn't really care about me any more, and that hurts.

Well, time to go press the flesh and make a good impression on Dr. Beckwith.  He's the new culturalist the department just hired.  He's done some really interesting work on some of the Native American tribes here in the northwest.  I'm hoping he'll teach a seminar next year so I can sit in on it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**An hour later**

 

Blair pulled into his usual parking space at the apartment building and turned off the motor.  He sighed heavily, staring up at the lofts.  As much as he wanted to talk to Jim, he wasn't looking forward to the upcoming confrontation in the slightest.  And it would become a confrontation, he was absolutely sure of that.  He was so tired of fighting with Jim.

And he was going to have more time for the argument than he'd planned, too.  Beckwith's reception had been postponed, the professor unable to attend his own party because he was stuck at the airport in Chicago, thanks to bad weather.

With another sigh, Sandburg forced himself out of the car.  He shouldered his backpack and headed for the stairs, determined to get the coming fight over with.  With luck, they could yell and carry on, then one of them could storm off and still have time to come back and make-up enough that they could share the same bed tonight.

He really hated it when they argued right before they went to bed.  Jim would go completely cold and stony, making it very uncomfortable to lie next to him all night.  At times like that, a part of him wanted to lash out and pound on the man's back until he reacted, showed some kind of emotion, regardless of what it was, while another part just wanted to fuck the shit out of him.

Blair shook off the thoughts, knowing he didn't want Jim picking up on any arousal coming from him while he tried to carry on a rational, reasoned, calm discussion.  _Yeah, right_ , he thought.  _Like that's going to happen, the way we've been going recently_.

He climbed the stairs and headed down the hall to the door.  Stopping just outside the loft, he fished into his pocket for his keys.  That's when he heard it – a laugh; Jim's laugh.

Blair's brow furrowed as he pulled out his keys.  He found the one he needed, inserted it into the lock and turned, hearing more laughter – Jim's and someone else's.  Maybe Joel or Simon had dropped by.

Sandburg pushed the door open and stepped inside the loft.  Jim was sitting on the sofa, with a woman.  A young, beautiful woman, Blair noted, immediately feeling jealous, possessive and hurt, all at the same time.

 _Well, not that young_, he realized.  She was closer to Jim's age than to his.  But she was still a knockout.  And it was all too clear that Jim was really enjoying her company, especially if the way he was leaning in toward her, his eyes meeting hers as he smiled, was any indication.

          "Uh, hi," he said lamely.  They both looked in his direction and Blair realized he'd caught the Sentinel off guard.  He'd been zoning out a little on her.  She smiled and he knew why.  _Definitely a knockout_.

          "Blair, uh, hi," Jim said, frowning and shifting back away from the woman a little.  Then he pushed to his feet and said to her, "Tracy, this is Blair.  Blair Sandburg."  He looked to Sandburg adding, "Blair, this is Tracy Goodfellow."

          Tracy smiled broader.  "It's nice to meet you, Blair."

          Sandburg crossed the room and shook her hand.  "Same," he replied, glancing a little nervously from Jim to her.  "Uh, Jim, I didn't know– I can go find something to do if, uh–"

          "No, no that's all right, Chief," Jim said, interrupting his Guide's fumbling attempt at communication.  Ellison glanced down at Tracy and added, "Tracy and I knew each other in college, before I went into the Army."

          "I think they called it dating way back when," she teased Ellison.

          Jim blushed, but grinned.  "Yeah, I guess they did."

          She glanced over at the wall clock and said, "Oh man, it's later than I expected.  I better get back to my hotel.  I'm meeting with the DA at eight and I want to go over my files before that."

          Jim nodded his understanding.  "Look, why don't I give you a lift over to your hotel, save you the cab fare?"

          She nodded and smiled.  "I'd like that.  Thanks."

          Ellison extended his hand and helped her up from the sofa.  Glancing over at Sandburg as he passed, he said, "I'll be back in a little while."

          Blair mutely nodded, watching them leave.  When the door clicked shut behind them, he dropped down onto the sofa.  Had Jim called her?  Had she called him?  Was she associated with one of his current case?  He had a hundred questions, and no one to ask.

He sat for a moment longer, then sighed, stood and carried his backpack into his study, tossing it onto his old bed.  He changed, set up the materials for his lecture the next day, and then went out to the kitchen to make himself a cup of Tension Tamer tea.

Carrying the steaming drink back to the living room, he turned the television on, watching the local and national news while he looked over the draft of a paper he planned to give at a regional conference in Seattle next month.  When he was done with that, he wandered back into the kitchen and started supper.

          He didn't know if Jim was coming home to eat or not, and he sighed softly.  "So much for talking to the man," he muttered to himself, and then decided it would be smarter to assume Jim would be there for supper than not.  If he only fixed enough for himself, it was a sure bet Ellison would turn up and be pissed that Sandburg hadn't made enough for two.  Better to cook for two, just in case.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**An hour later**

 

          Blair sat at the table, eating his dinner alone.  When he was done, he carried his plate and silverware into the kitchen and cleaned up, the stereo playing softly in the background.  He made sure the leftovers were in the appropriately colored plastic containers and then walked back into the living room, trying to decide what to do next.  He settled on watching television and surfed until he found an old black and white feature on one of the movie channels.

          Curling up at one end of the sofa, he watched the drama playing out, wishing Jim was there to share it with him.  Ellison would have enjoyed the film, Sandburg was sure, but they'd stopped sharing their spare time together.

          When the movie ended, he got ready for bed, then climbed the stairs and crawled between the sheets without bothering to turn on a light.  He fell asleep, wishing Jim was there, lying beside him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that night**

 

          At first Blair wasn't sure what had woken him, but when he heard the familiar creak on the stairs he knew it was Jim, coming up to bed.  There was a particular way the Sentinel stepped on that one squeaky step that gave the sound a unique quality.

          He wasn't sure what to do.  It was way too late to talk and he was tired and sleepy.  The easiest thing to do would be play possum, which was exactly what Blair decided to do.

          He heard Jim undressing, and felt a small surge of desire stir in his groin, but he pushed it away and willed himself back to sleep.  And it felt like his body was cooperating, for once.

          Jim moved to the edge of the bed and paused.

          _What's he waiting for?_ Blair wondered, sleep retreating again.

          "I can tell you're not asleep," Ellison stated in a normal tone of voice.

          Blair jerked with surprise, his heart starting to beat faster.  "Uh, look, it's not what you're thinking," he started.

          "Oh?" Jim asked him, his tone half-angry, half-condescending.  "And what would I think it was, Chief?"

          Blair didn't have a good answer.  He wasn't sure himself.  All he did know was that he felt guilty, and there was no reason why he should feel guilty.  He hadn't been sneaking around with a woman behind Jim's back.  "Look, Jim–"

          "Never mind," Ellison interrupted, his tone now dismissive as he pulled the covers back, sat down and then swung into bed.  He lay down, his back to Blair.

          Sandburg tried to stifle a frustrated sigh, but he couldn't do it well enough to hide it from the Sentinel.

          "What?" Jim asked him, the tone almost petulant.

          "Nothing, man," Blair replied, rolling over so his back was to Jim's.

It was a long, lonely night.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The next morning**

 

          Blair carefully set his coffee down on his desk and then dropped into his office chair with a groan.  He was tired and drained, physically and emotionally.

          He let his backpack fall to the floor beside his chair and, reaching into his top drawer, took out his journal and set it on the desktop.  He frowned.  When had be started leaving his journal at school?

          "When Jim and I started having trouble," he answered his own question.  He shook his head.  Had he lost that much faith in the man?  Or did he think Jim would read it again, destroy it in a fit of anger?  He decided it was going in the backpack and going back to the loft.

          Opening the leather-bound notebook to his last entry, he read it over, then picked up a pen and started writing.

 

I really don't want to lose Jim, but I feel like I am anyway, and I can't seem to do a damned thing about it.

Who is Tracy Goodfellow?  And why didn't Jim tell me she was coming over?

Okay, so it might have been a spur of the moment thing, or she might have just shown up, unannounced.

 

       Blair looked up, realizing that Jim wouldn't have expected him home that early yesterday – not until _after_ the reception, so, another three hours.

 

              I wonder if they had plans.

          Of course they did.  And I clearly interrupted them.  But they could have just picked up again at her hotel when he dropped her off.  He was there long enough.

          Hotel.

          So she doesn't live here.  Maybe she was just passing through and thought she'd catch up on old times with Jim.  They could have just talked last night.

But until one in the morning?

Man, I'm starting to sounds as bad as Jim used to!  I'm not jealous.  I don't need to know where he is every minute of the day.  I don't need to know anything about Ms. Goodfellow.

But she was so good-looking.  Jim would have to be blind not to have noticed.  And they used to date.  He had to be wondering what it would be like, to have her in his arms again.

See!  I'm doing it again!  Jim made a commitment.  He's not the kind of man to go back on his word.  I know that.  But with all the shit that's been going on between us, I wouldn't blame him for wanting to get some – what?

Why am I assuming that just because he was with a beautiful woman, he wanted to sleep with her?  That he did sleep with her at her hotel?

That's so totally unfair.

But I can't seem to help myself either.  Maybe we're worse off than I imagined.  I know I don't feel like I'm attractive to him right now.  I just wish I still didn't want him so damned much, but I do.

 

          Blair sighed and leaned back in his chair, sipping on his coffee and thinking for a while before he picked up his pen and started writing again.

 

Okay.  If Jim wants to go back to dating women, I can't stop him.  I'm not even sure I want to stop him right now.  Maybe it would improve his disposition.

And I want him to be happy.

And I want to be happy, too.

I thought being with Jim, in every way, would make me happy, but it's a lot more complicated than that.  And right now I am most definitely not happy.

I really don't know what to do.

And I still haven't been able to talk to him.  He was so damned closed off this morning I didn't even bother trying.  I probably should have, but I just didn't have the energy.

 

"And speaking of energy," he muttered aloud and then took another sip of coffee before continuing to write.

 

And speaking of energy, I have to find enough to get out to one of the malls, or someplace, to do some more Christmas shopping.

I'll probably go to the mall.  There's a cigar shop in Cascade Highlands where I want to pick up something for Simon.

I just haven't felt like Christmas shopping lately.  All this stuff with Jim has sort of killed my holiday mood.  Still, it has to be done.

I'll go Friday, whether or not I want to, and just get it over with.  One less thing to worry about.

I have no idea what to get Jim at this point – I still have a "sight" gift left to go.  I just hope I can find something.  If I'm reduced to buying him a sweater or a bathrobe, we're in more trouble than I thought!

I wish I knew someone I could talk to about Jim.  Maybe I should see a psychologist, or a marriage counselor.  They must have them for same-sex couples.  But getting Jim to go with me would be like trying to drink Cascade Bay in one gulp!

 

          Blair sat up straight, then smiled and leaned back in his chair.  He did know someone!  Christine Zhu had graduated with her masters and was doing an internship, or whatever they called it, with a counselor.  She knew about his work with the police department, and she knew about his relationship with Jim, if not about Ellison's sentinel abilities.  He could trust her.

          Reaching out, he thumbed through the C's in the old fashioned rolodex he still kept until he found her name, then reached for the phone and punched out the numbers.  The phone rang, an answering machine kicking in.  He left a message, asking her to give him a call at home that evening.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that evening**

 

          Blair unlocked the door and stepped into the loft, calling, "Jim?"

There was no answer.  But he did find a hastily scribbled note:

 

                        Blair,

It's Tracy's last night in town.  I'll probably be back late.  Don't wait up for me.

                                    Jim

 

          Sandburg sighed heavily and shook his head.  _Fine_ , he thought.  _But I'm getting damned tired of eating alone_.

          He dropped his stuff in his study and then called Christine.  She answered on the second ring.

          _"Hello?"_

          "Yeah, Christine, it's Blair."

          _"Hi, Blair.  I got your message.  I was just getting ready to call you.  You sounded pretty depressed.  Are you okay?"_

          "Yeah, well, uh, look, I was wondering, would you like to come over for dinner?  I'd really like to talk to you."

          _"Sure, that'd be fine.  Brian's visiting his mom – she just had knee replacement surgery – so I'm on my own for a couple of days."_

          Blair smiled sadly.  "Yeah, me, too."

          _"When should I come over?"_

          "Any time is fine.  Hey, tell you what, why don't you stop by your aunt's restaurant and pick up something for us?  I'll pay you back when you get here."

          She laughed.  _"She never charges me, just makes me promise to stop by more often.  Cashew chicken sound good?"_

          "Sounds great.  And grab a few of those great spring rolls?  Please?"

          _"Sure, no problem.  I'll see you in an hour or so?"_

          "Great.  And, Christine?  Thanks."

          _"See you soon,"_ she said, and then the line went dead.

          Blair set the phone back in the cradle, then made sure everything was straightened up and set the table for them.  He put on a CD and turned it down low, then lit a couple of candles on the table.

          He had just put water on to heat for tea when he heard the knock on the door.  "Hey, that smells great," he said after he opened the door to find Christine standing there, holding a bag of takeout.

          "Of course it does," she told him, sweeping into the loft and carrying the food to the table.  She set out the carryout boxes, saying, "Hey, this looks really nice."  Then she paused to study him more closely.  "But _you_ look terrible," she added, stepping forward to give him a hug.

          "Yeah, well, it fits my mood," he told her, returning the gesture with heartfelt emotion.

          She frowned.  "You and Jim having trouble?"

          He nodded, saying, "Yeah, but I'll tell about it _after_ we eat.  I don't want to ruin my appetite before I enjoy all your aunt's wonderful cooking."

          Christine smiled and nodded.  "She told me to tell you hello, and that you should stop by more often – just like I should."

          "I'll have to do that," he said, heading back into the kitchen when the kettle began to whistle.  He poured their tea and carried the cups back to the table adding, "Best Chinese food in the city."

          "Careful, she might want to quote you on that!"

          The two dug into the boxes, which included much more than just Cashew Chicken, each of them taking samples of everything.  As they ate they caught up on each others' lives.  And, when they were through, Blair saved what was left of the food, and then did the dishes with Christine's help.

          While he washed and she dried, he told her about the trouble he was having with Jim.  She frowned and said hesitantly, "Blair, I'm trained as a high school guidance counselor, I'm not qualified to–"

          "I know," he interrupted her, "I really just wanted to vent to someone.  Jim's been going out of his way to avoid talking to me and I'm just really frustrated right now – in more ways than one."

          She giggled.  "Is he really busy at work?" she asked him.

          Blair shook his head.  "No more than usual for this time of year.  The 'silly season' does seem to bring the worst out in some people."

          She nodded.  "Maybe his problem isn't with you," she ventured.  "Maybe it's work, or something else, and you're just the most convenient target?"

          "Maybe," Blair agreed, "and I'd buy that, if the sex was still good."

          She made a face.  "Okay, that usually points to a problem in the relationship."  She hesitated a moment, then asked, "He hasn't been… violent or anything, has he?"

          Sandburg's eyes rounded.  "Jim?  No.  He'd never do anything like that, even if he was _totally_ pissed at me."

          She dried the mug she was holding as she said, "Brian and I went through a time like this, too.  I think we just kind of ODed on each other.  Then his mom took a fall and he had to stay with her for a few days.  When he came back, we had a long talk and it really helped us.  I know I wouldn't be planning to marry him in three months if that hadn't happened."

          Blair nodded.  "I've wondered the same thing about Jim and me.  It's been almost five years for us.  Well, since I moved in, not since we've been lovers," he clarified.

          "I think you should see someone who specializes in same-sex relationships," she said.  "I can ask Terri who she'd recommend.  She knows good people in all areas of counseling and psychology."

          "Yeah, if you don't mind?" he asked her.  "I'm at the end of my rope, you know?"

          "Don't take this wrong, okay," she said, "but Jim always seemed kind of… straight, tame, by-the-book – take your choice – for you."

          Blair laughed.  _If you only knew!_   "He's not as 'tame' as he looks," he told her.  "We have a solid friendship, at least, I hope we still do.  And the sex was great, until recently…"  He shook his head.  "I just don't get it.  We were both happy.  So, what changed?"

          "I wish I knew," she replied.  "Is Jim… gay?"

          "No.  No way," Blair said, chuckling softly and shaking his head.  "You got the 'straight' part right – straight as an arrow, straight-laced…"

          "Could that be part of it?"

          "What do you mean?" he asked her.

          She thought for a moment, looking for the best way to put her thoughts into words, then said, "Well, if he's basically a straight guy, who got involved with someone who's–"  She stopped.  "What are you?"

          Sandburg finished wiping out the sink and said, "I don't think labels are really all that helpful, do you?"

          "No, but–"

          "I guess if you _had_ to put me in a box, I'd be in the one labeled Bi because I've been with both men and women, but I think that's just a label, a box.  It doesn't explain who I am."

          "Okay, I see what you're saying, but I guess I'm just thinking that if Jim's straight, maybe the– well, maybe the novelty has worn off?"

          Blair thought about for a moment.  Was it possible?  _Yes_ , he decided.  It was.  He nodded.  "You might be right.  And if you are, that really sucks."

          "Or not," she added, then giggled.

          Blair's eyes rounded for a moment, and then he laughed as well.  "You're bad."

          "Which is why you like me," she teased.

          Blair sobered.  "I'm really glad you came over."

          "Me, too," she said.

          "I need all the friends I can get right now."

          "Hey, come on.  Things will work out.  I know you.  If you set your mind to something, it'll happen."

          "God, I hope so," Blair replied.  "I really don't want to lose him."

          "Then don't.  Make him go to counseling, or make him tell you what's wrong.  Just don't let it sit and fester until both of you are glad it's over."

          Blair nodded.  "You're right, I've got to talk to him.  I just hope he'll listen."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later than night**

 

          Jim let himself into the loft.  It was dark and he could hear Blair's soft breathing coming from the bed upstairs.  As quietly as he could, he climbed the stairs, being sure to step over the squeaky step this time.  He didn't want to wake Blair and then know he was lying there, pretending to be asleep, again.

          When he reached the bedroom, he quickly stripped out of his clothes, folding them and putting them up, his enhanced sight making it a simple process in the darkened room.

          He started to slide into bed, but stopped.  Something was wrong… or different.  He concentrated, his head cocking to the side, then sniffed.

          There.  That smell.  What was that?

Sweet and a little earthy.

          _Perfume_ , he realized.  And he had smelled it before, but where?  And then he remembered – the co-ed… Christine.  She and Blair had been making love on his sofa before Lash grabbed Blair.

          What had Christine been doing there?

          He sniffed again, but caught no telltale aroma of Blair's arousal, so they hadn't made love.  But he had gotten close enough to her for some of her perfume to be transferred to his skin.

A hug, maybe?

          Jim's anger flared, as well as his jealousy.  Blair was probably pissed about Tracey, he guessed.  So he called one of _his_ old girlfriends and invited her over.

Ellison shook his head and climbed into bed.  He lay down, wishing Sandburg had taken a shower.  The damned smell was going to keep him up – or at least, the implications were.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The next day**

 

          Blair walked along the mall concourse, checking store windows as he passed, looking for inspiration.  He had already found gifts for his mom, Simon, Joel, H and Rafe.  He'd even found something for Steven, but be damned if he could find the last gift he needed for Jim.  He'd already bought the man a new pair of flannel pajamas – the material the softest he had ever found – for touch; a new black leather wallet for the smell; a CD of greatest hits from the 80s to excite the ear; and a gift box of mixed nuts and chocolates for taste.

But all of that had been purchased before the troubles had started.  And now he needed a fifth gift – they had agreed back in the summer that they'd limit their gifts for each other to five, one for each sense – and he wasn't finding anything that he thought would fit for the "sight" sense.

          And he knew why, too.  Because it felt like he was looking for a going away present, not a Christmas gift for his best friend and lover.

          He stopped, dropping down to sit on one of the many benches that were scattered along the concourse.  Sighing, Blair rubbed his temples.  "I'm going to take that research post," he muttered to himself.

Then, digging into his backpack, he pulled out his journal and a pen.  He propped his ankle on his knee, balanced the journal on his leg, and began writing.

 

I'm going to take Dr. Howard up on his offer.  I need some time away from here.  Away from Jim.  I'm starting to become someone I don't recognize, and it's someone I don't like very much.

Three months should give me time to sort this out.  Jim too.

I hope, when the trip's over, I'll be able to come home, and Jim and I can talk, really talk.  And when we do, we'll save this relationship.

We'll kiss and make up and make love.  I hope.

I hope we can find the love, the passion, the sheer joy we felt when this all started.

Well, maybe not right when it started.  I was pretty upset when I found out Jim knew about my feelings for him, especially when I knew the only way that could happen was if he'd read my journal.  The bastard.  But it was easy to forgive him when he made love to me, made a commitment to me.  I knew then that he loved me, cared about me.

And that commitment, that relationship, has been all I've wanted, for the most part.  Granted, it wasn't too good when Jim had his bout with being a paranoid, jealous prick, but right now that Jim looks a whole lot better than the one I'm living with.  At least I knew that Jim cared about me, he just cared too much.

I want to find a happy balance.  I want us both to be happy, and excited about our lives together.  I want us to have great sex, and really enjoy spending time together.

Maybe I want too much.

 

          Blair slipped his pen and journal back into his backpack, then pushed to his feet and started off again, looking for that last gift for Jim.  When he finished scouring the top floor of the mall, he took the stairs down and started on the bottom floor, going in and out of stores, but never finding anything he thought was right.

He had almost visited every store in the mall when he realized it was getting late.  The crowd had thinned and he was fighting a headache.  With a sigh he decided he'd better get back to the loft.  Jim was probably home now that Tracy was gone, and he'd be wondering where Blair was since Sandburg hadn't called or left a note about where he was going.

He thought briefly about calling Jim and telling him where he was, but that would mean digging through his backpack to find the cell phone and he'd be home in less than an hour if he left now.  Besides, he wasn't sure he wanted to get into it with Jim over the phone and, the way they'd been going, any conversation was bound to end up an argument.

With a tired sigh, he turned and headed for an exit.  As he passed the bookstore he caught sight of long black hair and called, "Christine?"

She turned and smiled.  "Blair, hey!"  She walked over to join him, nodding to the backpack that was hanging off his left shoulder.  "That Santa's bag?"

He grinned and nodded, then sobered and added, "But I still can't find one for Jim.  It's driving me crazy.  Of course, this headache isn't helping," he added, rubbing at his temple.

She looked a little surprised as she said, "You have a headache?  So do I.  And do you smell something funny?"

"It's that time of the year," he told her, still rubbing at his temple.  "Probably some kind of seasonal incense."

She grinned.  "Yeah, something subliminal to make us want to buy more presents."

He chuckled.  "There you go.  Hey, you want to grab a coffee?"

"Uh, I was just on my way out," she said apologetically.

"Yeah, me, too," Blair said.  They started for the exit.  "So, when's Brian due back?"

"Day after tomorrow.  He called last night an–"

An explosion tore through some part of the mall near by, halting her mid-sentence.

A moment later the shockwave hit them, slamming Blair into the wall, and knocking Christine flat onto the polished floor.  She slid several feet, too stunned to move.  Displays and decorations fell and tumbled over, finally forcing her to crawl toward a wall.

Screams had erupted from the shoppers left in the mall and they continued as, moments later, men, women and children were stampeding toward the exits as smoke continued to billow thickly into the enclosed structure.

Christine was kicked by one women hurrying past with two small children in tow.  She gasped and struggled to her feet, looking around for Blair, but she couldn't see him in the smoke, debris and confusion.  She coughed and tried to cover her mouth with her neck scarf, but the acrid smoke still burned her lungs.  "Blair!" she called.

A group of employees from the bookstore hurried out of their shop.  The young man who had rung Christine up reached her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he said, "Miss, are you hurt?  You're bleeding.  Here, let me help you outside."

"My friend," she said, still trying to look for Blair, but the young man was half-carrying, half-dragging her away.  "I have to find my friend!"

"Security will find him," the young man assured her.  "You should get outside, let someone look at you."

"Blair!"  She panted her feet and forced the clerk to stop.  "We have to find Blair," she told him, her tone making it very clear she wasn't going anywhere without the missing man.

The young man hesitated a moment, then nodded.  Together they pushed against the stream of frightened patrons and store clerks trying to reach the exits and escape outside.

Someone kicked something lying on the floor, sending it sliding along the slick surface, tripping Christine.  She looked down and saw it was Blair's backpack.  She scooped it up, calling "Blair!"

"Christine?" she heard Sandburg moan in reply.

"Ohmygod," she yelped.  "Here!  Help me!" she told the clerk when she found Blair buried under a collapsed holiday display.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The explosion took Blair completely by surprise, so at least he was relaxed when he was slammed soundly against the wall.  He slid down to the floor, spots of color and light flashing in front of his eyes with wild abandon.  A moment later, a holiday display, complete with tree, huge boxes decorated to look like presents, and several of Santa's elves broke free of the remaining section of wall and shelf, falling down on top of him.

In the distance, he thought he heard Christine calling for him, but he couldn't imagine why.  Nor did he know where he was.  Or what had happened.  Or why there were elves so pissed off at him that they were trying to beat him senseless.  At least, he hoped it was the elves who were attacking his head with what had to be pick-axes.

"Blair?"

_The voice again.  Who is that?_

"Blair, are you all right?"

 _Uh, no.  I'd think that'd be pretty obvious here_.

"Blair, can you move?"

_Can, yes.  Planning on it?  Not on your life!_

"Blair, come on, we have to get out of here.  There's a fire…"

_Fire?_

And then hands were pulling at him, forcing him to his feet where he swayed unsteadily, his head feeling like it was about to explode.  His lungs burned and his throat felt raw.  He coughed and nearly doubled over.

The hands grabbed him, pulling him forward.  The flashes of light and color flared, making it impossible for him to see who it was or where he was going.  "Jim," he moaned.

"Come on," Christine urged.  "We have to get outside."

 _Outside?_ Blair thought.  _What's going on?  Where's Jim?_   Then the pain in his head flared again and his thoughts scattered.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Getting Blair to his feet wasn't too hard, but getting him to the exit proved to be a major effort.  Thankfully, the clerk stayed with Christine, helping her with Sandburg until they finally got outside.  All three of them were coughing and gasping for breath, their faces coated with ash and smoke.

Police, mall security and paramedics rushed up to take over.

          "Blair," Christine called, still clutching Sandburg's backpack as medics led her away.  "Where are you taking him?"

          "Cascade General," one of the men helping Blair toward a waiting ambulance told her.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**That night at the loft**

 

          Jim paced in the living room, growing more and more angry with each step.  Where the hell was Blair?  He stopped long enough to glance at the phone, but his other calls to Sandburg's cell phone had all gone unanswered.  He wasn't going to try again.  If Blair wanted some space, far be it for him to crowd the man.

The pacing resumed and Jim's jaw muscles twitched.  _He's probably out with Christine.  They probably went to dinner and a movie, and then over to her place._

_Damn it!_

          He stopped and flopped down on the sofa and rubbed the back of his neck.  What the hell was he doing?  Had he driven Sandburg away?

          "Stupid, Ellison, really stupid."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The next day**

 

          Jim awakened and stretched.  He turned his head and was surprised to find Blair wasn't in bed with him.  Had Sandburg spent the whole night with that girl?

          "Fine," Jim growled.  "You want your freedom, I can give it to you, Chief."  He threw the covers back and shoved to his feet.

After ransacking his drawers and closet for clothes, he stomped down to the bathroom and took a shower, shaved and dressed.  Then, standing in the kitchen, he realized he wasn't really hungry.

          The phone rang and without thinking he reached out and scooped it up.  "Ellison."

          "Detective Ellison?"

          "Yes," he replied, his brow creasing with confusion and sudden worry.

          "Hi.  My name's Christine Zho.  We met–"

          "Yeah, I remember," Jim interrupted her, wondering if Blair had asked her to call, just to rub a little salt into the wound.

          "I'm sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you might know how Blair is.  I've tried to get someone here to tell me, but they're refusing to release any information except to family members and–"

          "Uh, wait a minute.  Slow down," Jim said.  "I don't know what you're talking about."

          "What?"

          "I don't know what you're taking about," Jim repeated.

          "Oh my God.  I'm so sorry.  I thought you'd already know.  They didn't call you?"

          "Know what?" Jim almost snapped.  "Who was supposed to call me?"

          "The explosion yesterday, at the mall, Blair was hurt.  I–"

          "Explosion?"

          "You haven't turned the TV on yet, have you."

          "No.  What–?"

          "There was a gas leak at Cascade Highlands Mall last night.  There was an explosion.  I ran into Blair there and we were heading for the exit when it hit.  He was buried under some decorations and sucked in a lot of smoke.  They took him to Cascade General.  Me, too – I cut my forehead.  Flying glass they said.  They're letting me go, but I wanted to find out how Blair was doing first.  I don't know why they didn't call you."

          "Me, either," Jim replied, his heart racing.  "Look, Christine, stay at the hospital.  I'll be there in twenty minutes."

          "Okay," she agreed.

          Jim hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket and was out the door.  As he headed for the stairs he pulled out his cell phone and called Simon.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Twenty minutes later**

 

          Captain Simon Banks met Jim at the emergency entrance to Cascade General.  They entered together, Banks asking, "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

          "Because _I_ just found out about it," Jim replied testily.

          "You weren't worried when he didn't come home last night?" Simon snapped.  "You didn't hear about the explosion and wonder–?"

          "Look, Simon," Jim interrupted, "I didn't hear about the explosion.  The kid and me…  We've been having some problems.  I just figured he'd found something better to do last night."

          Simon drew up in the lobby, staring hard at Ellison.  "You're serious."

          Jim nodded.  "We've been climbing all over each others' backs for almost a month now."

          Simon shook his head, asking, "Why?"

          "I wish I knew," Jim replied softly, although he knew it was his fault, not Sandburg's.

          "Detective Ellison?" a soft voice asked.

          Jim looked down, recognizing the pretty Asian woman.  "Yeah."

          "I'm Christine Zho," she said, extending her hand.

          Jim shook the proffered hand and asked, "Have they told you anything yet?"

          She shook her head.  "They say they can only release information to immediate family members."  She held up Blair's backpack, saying, "I grabbed this last night.  Maybe you can give it to him?  He was Christmas shopping…"

          Jim took the pack and slung it over his shoulder like he'd seen Sandburg do a million times, then he glanced over at the folding tables that had been set up to deal with family members who were seeking information on their loved ones.  The crowd he knew must have been there last night had thinned considerably.  He walked over to a middle-aged woman and showed her his badge.

"I have reason to believe that my partner was injured in the explosion last night and was brought here," Jim told her.

          She shook her head.  "I'm sorry, we don't have any police officers."

          "His name's Blair Sandburg," Jim pressed.

          The woman checked a list of names and shook her head again.  "I'm sorry, we don't have anyone here by that name."  She looked up.  "If you'd like, you can check in our personal effects room.  We have a few injured John Does listed – no one's died here, thank God.  If you see–"

          "Where is it?" he asked her, interrupting.

          She pointed to a closed door across from the tables.

          Jim thanked her and rejoined Simon and Christine, explaining that they didn't have Blair listed, but that he was going to go see he could identify any of Blair's personal effects.

"How can they have his personal stuff if he's not here?" Christine asked him.

"This is stuff they took off the John Does," Jim explained.

Christine paled.

"It just means he hasn't been able to tell them who he is yet," Simon told her, trying to ease her concern.

Jim stalked over to the closed door where a security officer stood on duty.  "Can I help you?" he asked Ellison.

          Jim showed the man his badge as he said, "I'm trying to find my partner.  The woman over there thought he might be one of the John Does.  I'd like to see if I recognize any of the personal effects."

          The man nodded and opened the door, allowing Jim to enter.  Inside another security guard sat at a table on which various personal articles had been placed.  The Sentinel immediately recognized Sandburg's keychain.  He reached out and scooped up the collection of keys, his enhanced sense of smell picking up a faint trace of smoke while his fingertips registered the dust from the explosion.

          Clutching the keys, he headed back out to the table.  He could see Simon and Christine watching him, listening.  "Excuse me, these are my partner's," he said, holding the keys up for the woman to see.  "I want to see him."

          She reached out and checked the tag that had been added to the ring.  "John Doe number five…"  She checked a second sheet of paper on the clipboard she had in front of her.  "It looks like he's in ICU."

          "ICU?" Jim asked her.

          Simon's head came up and he met Ellison's eyes just long enough to nod that he was headed for ICU to make sure it was really Sandburg.  Jim nodded and watched Simon stalk over to the elevators.

          "I'm sorry, that's all the information I have.  You can check here behind me to find out who his doctor is."  She wrote down a code on a post-it note and handed it to Jim, who took it to a younger woman, seated behind a computer terminal.  She took the code and keyed it in, then proceeded to ask Jim a series of questions.  She typed in his answers, and then said, "If you could go up and visually identify Mr. Doe number five and then–"

          "My captain's already doing that.  Can you tell me what's wrong with him?"

          She shook her head.  "You'll have to speak to his doctor.  I'm sorry.  I don't have that information."

          Jim nodded his understanding.  "Thank you," he said, turning and walking over to rejoin Christine, who sat huddled at one end of a sofa.

          "So, is he really here?" she asked him.

          "I think so.  Simon will be back in a minute."

          "I hope he's okay," she worried.  "He was pretty rattled by that explosion, and he was coughing."

          Jim's attention shifted when one of the elevators slid open and Simon stepped out.  He glanced over, meeting Jim's eyes and nodded.

          The Sentinel glanced down at the young woman and said, "Blair's here.  I'm going to go check on him and talk to his doctor.  I can call you if–"

          "I'll just wait," she replied.  "If that's okay?"

          He nodded, stood and walked over to the admitting clerk to let her know that it was, indeed, Blair Sandburg, not John Doe number five that they had in ICU.  She thanked him and entered Blair's name into the computer system.

Jim walked over to join Simon at the elevators.  "How's he look?" he asked his captain.

          Simon shook his head.  "I couldn't really tell, but he's on a ventilator."

          "What?"

          Banks shrugged.  "You'll have to ask the doctor.  I just made sure it was Sandburg lying there and came back down."

          They stepped into the elevator when it arrived and, on the ride up, Simon told Jim what he knew about the explosion at the mall, concluding, "The arson team came back with the same answer – a gas leak.  No one's sure what touched it off."

          "And naturally Blair was caught right in the middle of it," Jim muttered.

          Banks offered the man a slight smile.  "Well, the kid does seem to have a certain talent.  A 'trouble magnet,' I think Joel calls him."

          Jim snorted softly.  He could feel his palms beginning to sweat and knew he was scared.  What if Blair was seriously hurt?  What if he was–?  _Get a grip, Ellison_ , he snapped at himself.

          They exited the elevator, Simon leading the way to ICU.  Blair lay in a small bed that took up most the space in one of the ten cubicles that were arranged in two half circles that opened onto two back-to-back nurses' stations.

          Jim stumbled to a stop, his gaze locked on his Guide.  All the other noises from the space faded away in Ellison's ears, all except for the slow, steady beat of Sandburg's heart, and his sight narrowed to Blair's chest as he watched it rise and fall on the command of the machine breathing for him.  He was vaguely aware of Simon leading him closer to Sandburg's bedside, but he was lost in the combination of sight, sound and worry.

          His fingers curled tighter around the shoulder strap of Blair's backpack, still hanging on his shoulder.  Then he felt the sharp elbow bite into his ribs and he blinked, realizing he'd zoned out for a moment.

          Simon's expression was concerned, but he nodded and said, "Jim, Dr. Sing is Blair's physician."

          Ellison turned to the physician, extending his hand to the thirty-something Asian man.  "Jim Ellison, Doctor.  How is he?"

          "He's doing well, all things considered," Dr. Sing replied.

          "But the respirator–" Jim began.

          The doctor held up a hand, saying, "Please, let's go down to the lounge and talk there," he said, gesturing and then leading the way.  Once they reached the room, complete with chairs, sofas, television and plenty of magazines, the doctor had the two detectives sit and did the same himself.  "Mr. Sandburg was brought in suffering from smoke inhalation.  He was coughing, hoarse, and having trouble breathing.  We decided the endotracheal tube would be best to ensure his airway remained open.  I've done a bronchoscopy to take a look at his airways, and suctioned some of the mucus secretion.  He's doing as well as he can, given the circumstances.  He'll probably be conscious and breathing on his own tomorrow, and as soon as he is, we'll move him into a regular room."

          "And he'll be fine?" Simon asked the physician.

          Dr. Sing nodded.  "I think so.  He was a very lucky man.  If he'd been left in that smoke much longer, he might have asphyxiated."

          Jim met and held the physician's eyes as he asked, "Can I stay with him?"

          "Of course," Dr. Sing replied.  "Just let one of the nurses at the central station know and we'll get you a chair, or a rocking chair if you'd prefer."

          "Thank you," Jim said as Dr. Sing stood.  He pushed to his feet and proffered his hand.  The physician shook it.

          "If you have any questions or concerns, please, have one of the nurses page me."

          Jim nodded.  "I'll do that."

          Once the doctor was gone, Jim and Simon returned to Blair's cubical.  While Ellison stood beside Sandburg's bedside, Banks went to the nurses' station and asked for a rocking chair for Jim.  One of the nurses smiled and made a call.  A few minutes later someone arrived with the chair and Jim sank into it, the backpack dropping to the floor beside the rocker, Ellison's attention once again focused only on Blair.

          "Uh, Jim," Simon said softly, "Blair's friend is still waiting downstairs to hear how he's doing," he reminded the detective.  "You want me to talk to her?"

          Ellison shook his head as he pushed to his feet.  He paused, looking down at Blair.  "I'll be right back," he said, and Simon wasn't sure if he was talking to him or the unconscious man.  Then he added, "Can you stay with him until I get back?"

"Sure," Simon replied.

Jim walked over to the nurses' station to let them know he'd be right back, then headed to the elevator and rode it down to the lobby.  He crossed to where Christine sat, thumbing though a magazine.  She set it aside as soon as she saw him, and asked when he reached her, "How is he?"

          "The doctor says he'll be fine.  It was just smoke inhalation.  He'll probably be in a regular room tomorrow if you want to stop by and see him.  Right now they have him in ICU."

          "But he'll be okay?" she asked worriedly.

          Jim nodded, noting with more than a little jealousy that she was a very lovely young woman.  "Yeah, he'll be fine…  Thanks to you."

          She blushed and dipped her head.  "I'm just glad he'll be okay.  I still need him to give me away in three months."

          Jim frowned.  "Give you away?"

          She looked up, smiling.  "I'm getting married.  I asked Blair to walk me down the aisle since my parents are out of the country and he's my best friend."

          "But I thought–"  Jim stopped himself.

          She met and held his eyes.  "What?  That we were dating again?"

          Jim shrugged.  "Something like that, yeah."

          Christine shook her head.  "No, he just wanted to talk to someone…  About you."

          "Me?"

          She hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the people who still milled the room.  "Maybe we could go somewhere a little more private?"

          Jim nodded and they walked across the street to a small café.  They ordered coffee, Jim adding a bearclaw, and they took a table in a corner.  Christine told Jim about her dinner with Blair and then about meeting him by accident at the mall.

          Jim wasn't sure what to say.

          Christine decided to take a chance and told him, "Blair's been pretty upset about the way your relationship's going.  I think he feels like you're drifting apart, and then he saw you with that woman and thought you might be dating again.  I think that's why he wanted me to come over – so he could get a woman's opinion."

          Jim shook his head.  "I guess I didn't handle that very well.  Tracy and I used to date, many, many years ago.  She was in town on a case and looked me up.  She's a psychologist, a profiler for the FBI.  I ended up talking to her about Blair, but that's all we did – just talk.

          She grinned at him.  "I think you need to tell Blair that."

          "I need to tell him a lot of things," Jim replied softly.

          "Do you mind me asking what's been going on with you two?  I haven't really seen Blair like this before.  He's really worried about the relationship."

          Jim thought for a moment and then shrugged and shook his head.  "To be honest, I don't know.  We've been fighting about everything… nothing… stupid stuff."

          "Sounds like you need a vacation from each other."

          He looked up, meeting her eyes and considering that.  "Maybe.  I've always been a private person," he admitted.  "And then Blair came barreling into my life.  We've been in each other's space for years now.  Maybe we do need a vacation."

          "Do you love him?" she asked Jim.

          He nodded.  "Yes, I do."

          "Then what's the _real_ problem?"

          Jim sat for a long moment, and then he sighed softly and said, "My relationships have never lasted this long before.  This Christmas it'll be a year since we've been... together, but Blair's been in my life close to five years now.  That's longer than I was married to my wife."

          "So… what?  You're pushing him away before he can leave you?" she ventured to guess.

          Jim snorted softly and shook his head.  "That's what Tracy asked me, too."

          Christine grinned.  "Well, I do have a psychology degree, but I'm just going to be a career counselor for high school students.  Sounds like she's the expert.  What did Tracy tell you to do?"

          "To talk to him, tell him that I was afraid… that I loved him."

          "But you didn't?"

          Jim shook his head.  "I was scared, and then I'd get mad and I couldn't talk to him, and…"  He trailed off, sighing heavily.  "I've been acting like a jerk."

          "Will you tell him now?"

          Jim nodded.  "I think I'd better."

          "I think you're right," she agreed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that day**

 

          Jim sat in the rocking chair, his toes pushing rhythmically against the floor, keeping him in a constant state of motion.  He was concentrating on the sound of each unassisted breath Sandburg drew.  There was still a soft wheeze and rattle in his lungs, but it was growing less and less noticeable as the hours passed.  And the man's heartbeat was strong and steady.

          And then there was a shift.

Jim stopped, waiting.

          Blair moaned softly.

          Jim stood and moved to the bedside.  Reaching out, he took a cup of ice chips and waited until Sandburg's blue eyes blinked open, then said softly, "Here, this will help your throat."

          Blair blinked owlishly up at Jim and nodded, letting Ellison slip a couple of the chips from a spoon into his mouth.  He moaned again and closed his eyes, enjoying the icy relief as it slipped down the back of his throat.  "Thanks," he whispered.

          "Want some more?"

          Blair nodded and Jim slipped another few chips onto the spoon and delivered them to his Guide's mouth.

          Sandburg sucked on the ice, letting it sooth his aching throat.  "What happened?" he rasped out.

          "You were at the Cascade Highlands Mall," Jim said.  "There was a gas leak and an explosion.  You were pinned under some decorations.  They treated you for smoke inhalation when they brought you in last night."

          "Last night?"

          Jim nodded.  "It's been almost twenty-four hours since you were hurt."

          "Oh, man," Blair said softly.  "I don't really remember.  I remember being at the mall.  I saw Christine as I was leaving, but that's it."

          "She said the two of you were on your way out when the explosion hit."

          "Was anyone else hurt?"

          Jim hesitated, but answered honestly.  "Seven people died.  Almost fifty were injured."

          "Seven?" Blair echoed.  "God… a gas leak?"

          Jim nodded.  "In one of the restaurants.  They're still trying to determine what ignited it."

          Blair's eyes rounded.  "My backpack?"

          "Christine picked it up while she was looking for you.  I have it.  Why?"

          "Christmas presents," Blair said, blinking sleepily.  "Simon's an' Mom's… few others, too."

          Jim grinned.  "Don't worry, Chief.  I'll make sure it all gets back to the loft safe and sound."

          "Thanks, Jim," Blair said, his eyes slipping closed.

          "No problem," he replied softly.  Looking down at Sandburg, Jim knew he had to put his fears aside and save his relationship with the man, because he loved him.  He really loved him.

          "You don't have to stay," Sandburg muttered.

          Jim reached out, brushing the long hair off the younger man's forehead.  "I don't mind."

          Blair's eyes blinked open again.  "I'm just going to sleep… for a while," he said.  "You should go home… get some sleep, too…  You can… come back again… in the morning… if you want."

          "I want to," Jim said softly, his chest tightening painfully.  His fear had hurt Blair.  He really was an ass sometimes.  "I'll go home, but I'll wait until you're asleep, okay?"

          "Okay," Blair replied, eyes closing again.  He smiled weakly.  "Feels like old times, huh?"

          "Shh," Jim said, "just go back to sleep.  You need the rest."

          "Mmm," Blair replied, drifting off.

          "It's going to be like 'old times' from now on, Chief.  I promise you that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A couple of hours later**

 

          Jim let himself into the loft and stepped inside.  He turned on the light and walked over to set Blair's backpack on the table.  Pausing, he wondered what Sandburg had found for Simon and decided to take a peek.

          He opened the main pouch of the bag and looked inside, finding several plastic bags from various stores, and Sandburg's journal.

          Jim's gut clenched when he saw the leather-bound book.  He reached in, his hand trembling, and pulled it out.  He frowned as he studied the volume, unable to remember the last time he'd actually seen Blair writing in it.  Had he stopped keeping a journal?  Or had the trouble they'd been having forced him to take it out of the loft?

Knowing he shouldn't, but unable to stop himself, Jim opened the volume and thumbed back through the pages of neat script to when the troubles between the two of them had started.  He carried the journal over to the sofa and sat down, reading through Sandburg's thoughts and feelings over the past month.

And when he was finished, he felt even worse than he already did before.

          "You didn't want too much, Chief," he said quietly.

          He'd been a real ass, and he was damned lucky Blair hadn't called it quits and walked out on him weeks ago.  He would have had every right.

          He couldn't let that happen.  Not now.  Not knowing why he had tried to push Blair away.

          But what could he do?  How could he make it up to Sandburg?

          He stood and carried the journal to the table, then grabbed and a pen, sat down and started writing.

 

Blair, you don't want too much.  You want what we all do – to be loved, cherished.  I want that, too, but it's never happened.  Not until you came into my life.

I guess I just expected you to leave like everyone else has.  I was afraid you would.  And that fear made me mad, and you know I can be an ass when I get like that.

But I want you to know, I don't want anyone else but you.  Tracy was just an old friend, who happened to be a psychologist.  I was talking to her about you, about us.  About me and why I was so damned scared.  That's all we did.

I want you to be happy, Blair.  I want to make you happy.  I'll try to do that, but I'm going to make mistakes.  I just hope you can forgive me when I do.  Like this time.  I'll do whatever I can to make this work.

And if that means you want me to go to see a counselor, I'll go.

And if you need some space, take it.  Take that research position.  Go see the Amazon.  I'll be here when you get back.

You don't want too much.  You just want to be loved.  And you are.  I do love you, even if I can't seem to show it the way you want me to.  I'm willing to try.  Are you?

Please.

I love you.  Jim

 

          He closed the journal and returned it to Blair's backpack.  Then he zipped it closed and took it into Blair's study and left it sitting on his bed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Three days later, Christmas Eve**

 

          Jim opened the door to the loft in order for Blair to enter.  Sandburg shuffled inside and headed straight over to the sofa where he lay down and closed his eyes, groaning.

          "Can I get you anything?" Jim asked him.

          "No, that's okay," Blair replied.  Jim was in full mother-hen mode, and it was wearing a little thin.

          "I'm going to go make some tea," Jim said.  "You want some?"

          "Uh, yeah.  Thanks.  Sleepytime for me, please."  Blair listened as Jim crossed the loft and started filling the kettle with water.  He cracked his eyes open, watching the man across the room.  The Sentinel had been acting very differently the last few days, and it wasn't all mother-hen.  Sandburg was cautiously optimistic.  Maybe the scare had made Jim rethink how he'd been acting.  _I guess almost getting killed can shake up a relationship_.

          Jim walked back to the sofa, and looked down at Blair.  "You look tired.  Why don't you let me help you upstairs?"

          Blair rolled his head from side to side.  "That tea sounds too good," he said.  "And I want to look at the tree for a while.  When did you do that?"

          "Yesterday," Jim admitted, then dipped his head and added softly, "I'm sorry we didn't do it earlier, together… but I was acting like an ass."

          The corners of Blair's mouth turned up.  Jim Ellison, admitting he'd been acting like an ass?  This really _was_ the season of miracles.  "Uh, do you know where my backpack is?"

          "Yeah, it's in your room," Jim said.  "I'll get it, you just stay there."

          Blair nodded.  "Thanks."

          Jim walked over to Blair's old room and grabbed the pack, no longer remembering his foray into journaling, and carried it back to the sofa, setting it down on the floor.  The kettle started to whistle and he hurried off to make their tea.

          Blair sat up and pulled the backpack up next to him.  He opened it and checked the gifts he'd bought, glad to find that none of them had been damaged.  And, seeing his journal, he pulled that out, too, resting it in his lap.  Without thinking he opened it, and found Jim's entry.

          When Ellison returned, carrying two cups of tea, he found Blair staring at his journal, tears rolling down his cheeks.

          "Hey," Jim said softly.  When Blair looked up, he sat down, handing him one of the cups.  "I was hoping that might make you feel better, not worse," he said.

          Sandburg laughed shakily.  "It does, man.  It does."

          "It doesn't look like it."

          "It's everything I wanted to hear you say," Blair said softly, staring into the tea.  "Do you really mean it?"

          Jim took a deep breath and said, "Yeah, every word."

          Blair nodded, then lifted the cup and took a sip of the tea.

          "You want to talk?" Jim asked him, more than half-scared Sandburg would say yes, and he did.

          They talked, hesitantly at first, well into the night.  Then Jim took their empty cups into the kitchen and left them in the sink.  That done, the Sentinel escorted Blair upstairs, gently undressed him and helped him into bed.  He stroked and rubbed Sandburg's chest and arms, helping him relax and easing away the lingering aches and pains.

          Jim sighed softly.  It felt good to just touch Blair again, to be with him, to love him.

          "Mmm," Blair moaned softly.

          "Shh," Jim replied in a whisper.  "Go to sleep.  Tomorrow's Christmas."

          Blair nodded and adding in a sleepy slur, "Don't want t' make Santa late."

          "What?" Jim asked him, smiling affectionately.

          "Mom used to tell me if I didn't go to sleep, Santa would sit up on the roof and wait until I did, and that would put him behind schedule."

          Jim chuckled softly.  "And you wouldn't want to make Santa late, now would you?"

          "Nope," Blair said, snuggling closer to Ellison and closing his eyes.  A moment later he was sound asleep.

          Jim held him for a long while, then closed his eyes and drifted off as well.  He didn't want to make Santa late, either.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The following morning**

 

          Blair awakened to the sounds and smells of breakfast being cooked.  He smiled and rolled over onto his back, listening to the kitchen noise, mixing with soft strains of Christmas music coming from the living room.  It made him feel warm, homey, safe… and loved.

          He sat up carefully, waiting for the dizziness, but it didn't come.  He climbed out of bed, dressed, and headed down the stairs.

Jim looked over at him and smiled.  "Merry Christmas."

          "Merry Christmas, Jim," Blair replied.

          "The French toast is almost ready.  Why don't you go sit down and I'll bring it over with some coffee."

          Blair nodded and padded over to the sofa, his body still a little achy.  He sat down and stared at the blinking lights on the Christmas tree.  A moment later, Jim was handing him a plate and a cup.

They ate, listening to music and watching the television with the sound muted.  And, when they were done, Jim walked over and dug five boxes out from under the tree.  He handed Blair his gifts.

          Sandburg frowned.  "Oh damn," he moaned.

          "What?"

          He looked up, meeting Jim's eyes.  "I never found your last present."

          "Don't worry about it," Ellison said, waving his hand dismissively.

          Blair shrugged, but he still felt bad.

          They each opened their gifts, both enjoying the surprises they found.  Blair's new treasures included a new puzzle (sight), an Eventide CD (sound), boxed imported tea (taste), a fleece pullover (touch) and a collection of small cakes of organic soap (smell).

          "It's all great, Jim, really," he said, enjoying each and every gift.

          Ellison was grinning, his fingers still rubbing over the flannel pajamas.  "I can say the same."

          "But I didn't get a chance to get you a sight gift," Blair lamented.  "I'll have to make that one a late present, for New Year's."

          Jim looked at the younger man.  "Blair, I have my sight gift sitting right here in front of me."

          Sandburg blushed furiously and dipped his head.  "That's not the same thing."

          "It is to me."  Jim set his gifts on the coffee table and scooted closer to Blair.  "I have one more gift for you," he said.

          "Jim," Blair scolded, "we agreed to keep it to five.  I'm already one short as it is!"

          "In your journal, you said you wanted us to talk, and we did – last night.  You also wanted us to kiss…"  He leaned closer, his lips capturing his Guide's.

          Sandburg moaned softly and melted into the kiss.  His eyes closed and he drank in the tender intimacy that filled his eyes with tears.

When Jim finally pulled back, Blair slumped against the sofa, his eyes still closed, and panted until he caught his breath.

          Jim reached out, cupping the back of Blair's head.  "You also said you wanted us to make love.  Let me love you, Chief."

          Blair nodded, but added, "But I want to love you, Jim, please?"

          Ellison stood and rested his hands on Blair's shoulders for a moment, then traced the curve of his Guide's neck before he buried his fingers in Sandburg's sleep-tangled hair.  "You can have anything you want from me," he said softly.

          Blair leaned forward and rolled his head across Jim's groin, Ellison gasping softly and pressing his hips forward in automatic response.

          Sandburg pressed harder, his hands rubbing over Jim's sweatpant-covered thighs.  He found the waistband and tugged it down.  The Sentinel rewarded him with an encouraging sigh.

          Blair pulled the man's briefs down a few inches before they snagged at the root of his erection.  He pulled the waistband out and then down, freeing Jim's large cock.

          Blair stood and then knelt on the sofa, pushing the sweatshirt up.  He was eyelevel with Jim's nipples, which protruded from his sculpted pecs.  Leaning forward, he captured one between his teeth, his gentle gnawing eliciting a satisfied groan from Ellison.  He tweaked the right nub as he licked the left and Jim's hips jutted forward, thrusting his cock against the plane of Blair's belly.

          Sandburg groaned.  It was hard to continue working Jim's nipples with that temptation rubbing against his abdomen, and he quickly succumbed to it, licking his way down Jim's chest until Ellison's cock pressed against his chin.

          Jim wormed his fingers back into his lover's hair as his other hand gripped the base of his shaft, directing it into Blair's mouth.

          Sandburg's eyes closed as his lips parted.  Jim was thick, his head blunt, and already leaking.  He savored the taste of the man for a moment, and then sucked Jim into his mouth, burying the Sentinel in his throat.

          Jim rocked his hips for a few moments, then pulled out to let Blair catch his breath.  He leaned forward, licking his Guide's lips.  As their tongues tangled, his hands slipped inside Blair's sweats to find the cleft of his ass.  As soon as he began to spread Sandburg's cheeks, they both knew how this was going to end.

          Jim rubbed his stubble-covered cheek against Blair's and whispered, "You want to take this up to the bed?"

          "Yes," Sandburg breathed.  "And I changed my mind."

          "Oh?"

          "I want you."

          Jim helped Blair to stand and then pulled up his own pants.  They headed straight upstairs where Sandburg pulled his clothes off and climbed naked into the middle of the rumpled sheets.

          Jim paused, his hands on his hips, drinking in the sight of his lover.  There were still dark bruises on the man's body.  "Are you sure about this?  It looks like it's going to hurt."

          "Looks worse than it feels," Blair replied, wiggling his hips.  "Come on, man, make love to me."

          Jim stripped quickly and the pounced onto the bed with a leap that had Blair giggling until he noted the urgency in Ellison's eyes.

          The Sentinel kissed him with a ferocity sufficient to take Blair's breath away.

Sandburg was so intent on the play of their tongues and lips that he was only dimply aware that his left hand had slid to the drawer of the night stand.  He retrieved the lubricant, dropping it by his side with practiced ease.  And, when he spread his legs, Jim sank into the valley of his thighs, his cock dropping below Sandburg's balls to poke teasingly at him.  Blair squirmed against him, begging him with his body rather than with words.

          The lube bottle opened with a _snap_ , then Jim's cupped hand descended over Blair's thighs, through his crotch, and down to his ass.  His palmed the fluid into his Guide's skin and Blair arched his back in time to his strokes.

Sandburg felt a finger poised against his hole and froze in expectation.

          Jim smiled, then slowly, painlessly, drove his finger home.  Simultaneously, he gripped Blair's cock, tugging in rhythm with his internal stroking.

Sandburg groaned, lost in the gentle exploration of Jim's fingers, until the foreplay became almost torturous.  "Jim, please," he begged breathlessly.  "I need you.  Now."

          Ellison rubbed lube along the length of his cock, and when Blair sensed he was ready to proceed, he swung his legs up onto Ellison's shoulders.

          Jim needed no further encouragement.  Gripping his cock, he rested it against Blair's bud, then leaned forward and gently pushed his way into him.

          There was pain, and Blair gasped softly, but it was familiar and welcome.  The muscles of his ass futilely clamped around Jim's cock, but then finally surrendered.

Jim pushed in further, then tilted Blair onto his shoulders and used the leverage to drive himself even deeper.  He ground his hips and then withdrew.

Blair felt the head of his lover's cock rake against that magic button buried deep inside him and gasped softly with pleasure.  "Oh, yeah," he panted.  "Do that again."

          Jim lingered there, then pressed forward again, grinning as he watched the pleasure on his lover's face.

Blair grasped Ellison's hips and writhed against him, drawing him in further.  He paused as the last vestiges of pain melted away, leaving only a sense of fullness and an overwhelming desire in its wake.  "Jim," he moaned.  "Move, man… love me."

          "You ready?" Jim asked him.

          Blair squeezed his hips in reply, and beneath his fingers he could feel Jim's muscles coil.  "Oh yeah," he breathed, "give it to me, big guy."

          Jim lowered his head to kiss Blair as he simultaneously pulled his hips backward, only to slam into Sandburg half a moment later.

Pain blossomed then faded, replaced by an ecstasy that billowed through his entire body.  Blair groaned, twisting his hips to grind himself down on Jim's cock.

After a brief hesitation, Jim withdrew and thrust again, faster, then again and again until there were no more pauses.

"Yes," Blair hissed, his chest arching.  "Oh God…  Oh, Jim…"

          Their mouths welded together and they exchanged ragged breaths until their lungs burned.  Jim continued plunging in and out of Blair's tight passage, picking up speed, going as deep as he could.

          Blair dropped his head back, gasping in time to Jim's thrusts.  "Oh yes…  Oh God… good… so good…"

The Sentinel's mouth moved his Guide's throat, biting and licking the flesh along Blair's neck.

          Sandburg's self-control boiled away and he became a wild thing, bucking against Jim, trying to find purchase against skin slick with sweat.  Hungry cries emerged from his throat.  Everything that had passed between them over the past month faded away.  All that mattered was Jim's mouth on his throat, Jim's cock in his ass, and the divine friction of Jim's body against his cock.  This was making love.

          It was impossible for either man to tell how long it went on.  Jim pounded into his Guide with the abandon of a teenager.  All too soon, though, Blair felt Ellison's climax building.  Jim's rhythm faltered, becoming more frenzied, until at last he roared and collapsed on top of Blair, his hips still pumping frantically as he shot his load deep into his lover's body.

          Blair's perception of the universe condensed to the feel of Jim's shot seed filling him, the slide of his cock against Jim's sweating flesh and the building pressure in his own groin.  A final thrust from Jim finished Blair.  Hot seed erupted from his cock, filling the gap between their bodies and rolling down his sides.

They kissed again, tongues dancing, and they continued kissing long after Jim's cock had slipped out of Sandburg's body.

          Then Jim rolled off Blair and collapsed beside him.  They moved together, holding and being held at the same time, drinking in the intimacy, the love.

          "Merry Christmas," Jim whispered.

          "Happy Anniversary," Blair added.

          They both chuckled.

          "Jim," Blair said softly.

          "Hmm?"

          "I just want you to know, I love you.  And I swear to you, I'll never stop loving you.  Never.  I'll always be here for you.  I give you my word."

          Jim hugged him tighter, knowing he had received the greatest present ever – he no longer felt afraid.  "I know," he managed.  "And the same goes for me, too."

          "Good," Blair said and kissed Jim's collar bone, and then he licked a drop of sweat off the man's skin, making him groan.  "Because I don't ever, ever want to lose you either."  He licked off another drop of sweat and felt Jim's breath catch.  He grinned.  "Now, it's my turn."

          Jim groaned, but his cock was already showing signs of life.

          Blair rolled his lover onto his belly and went to work, loving him slowly, and well.  And when they had both come again, they lay in each other's arms, touching, sharing, celebrating the greatest gift of all – love.


End file.
